For Lost Hopes and Drowned Dreams
by pablodivaridesagain
Summary: This is a song sung by a young child, this is a dream that won't come true, a story told after midnight, these tales are all about you


Hey ya'll. This is my third story, and first Supernatural story. Erm, it probably sucks, cos' I wrote the song. I was reading depressing Supernatural fics, and I thought of poor Dean, turned into a man at the tender age of five… or four. Anyhoosit. **Pleez don't flame.** It wouldn't be nice. Okie dokie, this is mainly centering Dean. So, read on, fellow Supernatural Lurvers.

This is a song sung by a young child

This is a dream that won't come true

A story told after midnight

These tales are all about you

Dean always had a creative imagination. When he was little, before his mommy died, he'd sit in his room, dreaming about anything. His parents would always say he was plotting. What he was plotting, they didn't know.

He'd tell small tales to himself, about a beautiful princess and a handsome farmboy. That was after he saw The Princess Bride of course. Though he couldn't quite figure out what the hell kinda names Buttercup and Humperdink…

A little boy watches the rainy street

Hoping his daddy'll come today

A crying baby in his crib

That little boy just wants his say

As Dean watched the burning house, holding his sobbing baby brother, he wondered if his daddy was even coming out. He hadn't told him he would. He just said to run. So run, Dean did.

Now, Dean was scared. Where was his daddy? Dean didn't know what to do. Just as Dean was about to drop the baby, and run inside the house, his daddy came flying out the front door. He grabbed Dean and Sammy and ran for the Impala, just as the nursery window exploded.

Turned into a young man

At the tender age of five

A tiny boy's innocence lost

Because his daddy's venegence jive

"Dean, watch your brother." his dad says gruffly. Well, not _Dean's_ daddy (No. Dad. Dad doesn't like to be called Daddy anymore.). It's the imposter dad. His daddy was nice, and loved him, and tried to keep him warm, and safe.

This dad shoved him, and didn't try and keep him warm. It was cold in the house. Cold and people are always screaming around them, and it's smelly.

"Yes, daddy-dad."

He wipes his sweaty brow

The sweet child just can't read

Not enough to make his own food

His daddy's all he needs

Dean stared unsurely at the box of mac-and-cheese. It was uncooked, and had gibbberish all over it. Little black squigglys. Dad sometimes looks at them and says them, but for the life of him, Dean can't figure it out.

But he knows he has to. Sammy's been fed, his icky strained peas. But Dean can't eat that. He likes mac-and-cheese, just the way mommy used to make.

Dean sighs and submits to his fate. Dead man walking is what Dad calls it, the way Dean marches to the counter. Grabbing the half-full jar of strained peas, he sits down on the tile floor, and dips his forefinger in it. He slips the finger in his mouth, licks it clean, and slip it out again. Just as he suspected. Absolutely disgusting.

But that man won't come tonight

Revenge is all he cares for

Not even his baby boys

Are enough to strike his core

Dean doesn't know how long he's been waiting. He can't tell time yet. Mommy and Dad had been teaching him, but Dad stopped after the fire. All he knows is that it has been a long time since Dad left. Sammy's crying again. Dean gets up from his perch on the window sill, and comes over to the baby in his playpen.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean whispers, just like all the other times, as he pets his brother's head. The tiny wisp of hair is soft on the delicate skin on his palm.

So, Dean keeps waiting. For a long, long time. And his dad still doesn't come.

The little boy knows this isn't the last time

That he'll need to learn just a little more

Because all he has is himself

And that baby behind the other door

Dean finally comes to terms with the fact that his dad wasn't coming home while the sun was up. Sam had long since fallen asleep, but Dean promised to watch Sammy, so he couldn't sleep. Dean yawned again, and again splashed himself with the water in his plastic cup. Dean started doing that two Sesame Street's ago.

He heard a car pull up, and immediately stood, thinking it was his dad. It wasn't.

So he learns all he needs to know

He watches his father, dear

Cooking up a little mac-and-cheese

And pooring a glass of beer

Dad finally comes back, and seeing that Dean hadn't eaten, starts a bowl of mac-and-cheese. Dean stares, memorizing, because he knows this is important information for him.

"Did you watch your brother?" Dad asks, and he nods, because he did. He even stayed up all night to watch him. The five year old hasn't stayed up that long in his entire life.

He watches as Dad reaches in the fridge, and pulls out a brown bottle. Dad see's him watching, and speaks.

"Don't ever drink this, Dean. It isn't good for kids, okay?" And Dean nods, because if he didn't, Dad would get mad. The mac-and-cheese is finally finished, and Dad gives Dean a bowl, filled to the rim.

"Thanks." Dean says, taking a large spoonful of the food, and stuffing it in his mouth. And he means it when it slides down into his empty stomach. It's almost like his mom's, and that makes him miss her. Miss her a lot.

That was a song sung by a young child

That was a dream that won't come true

A story told after midnight

Those tales are all for you


End file.
